The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine (6 page)

The Archbishop stood there like some recording angel. I was sure he disapproved of my flowing hair. But there was so much that good man disapproved of.

Louis bowed. I curtsied. I spoke first: “Welcome, my lord, to Aquitaine.”

“It gives me great joy to greet you,” he replied. “May I present my commanders, Count Thibault of Champagne and Count Raoul of Vermandois.”

I turned to the two men who accompanied him. Count Raoul was very attractive; his eyes betrayed his admiration for me in a manner to which I was accustomed, but it was none the less welcome for that. I had heard of him. He was the Seneschal of France and the King’s cousin, a man of great importance at the Court of France. I thought how differently I should be feeling if he had been the prospective bridegroom instead of Louis.

And there was Abbot Suger—a little old man, another of those who frowned on all that was merry.

The Archbishop glanced at Suger and said: “Perhaps the Prince and the Duchess would care to talk together.”

As Louis said nothing, I replied that we should.

The Archbishop nodded, and drawing the others to a far corner of the room, he invited them to sit down. They would not leave us. That would be quite out of the question. Did they think that Louis would attempt to rape me? I looked at Louis and wanted to laugh, but he saw no humor in the situation.

I took him to a window-seat and there we sat side by side. The whole room separated us from the other little party—and this was as near to being alone together that we should get before we were married.

“You had a long and arduous journey, my lord,” I said.

He stammered: “Yes         .         .         .         we had. The heat was so intense that we were forced to travel by night.”

“And sleep by day?”

He nodded. I could see that he found it difficult to stop looking at me. I was pleased for I was sure that he found me attractive.

“It must have been slow progress traveling with so much. It is like an army.”

“There         .         .         .         there were the packhorses carrying the tents and provisions and cooking utensils. Yes         .         .         .         it was like an army. It has taken us most part of a month to get here.”

I leaned toward him smiling. “I hope you will find the journey worthwhile.”

He stammered: “Oh, yes         .         .         .         yes         .         .         .         indeed.”

Poor boy. He did not know how to pay compliments. But somehow I liked him for that. In fact I was liking him more every minute. There was a rather charming innocence about him.

He said: “I         .         .         .         I have come to ask your hand in marriage.”

“I know. I was expecting you.”

“I trust that I shall be fortunate enough to please you.”

“And I you.”

“You         .         .         .         you are beautiful.”

“Oh, did you expect some horrid creature with bad teeth and a squint?”

“No, I had heard that you were beautiful.”

“And you thought that all prospective brides are said to be that?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “That is so,” he said. “But you are really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I am sure we shall like each other.”

He looked very relieved.

I said: “Tell me about the Court of France.”

“I hope soon you will see it for yourself.”

“I wonder if it is anything like our Court here. Do you like music?”

“Yes.”

“Then that is something we both like.”

“I         .         .         .         I have only been at Court for a few years. Before, I was with the Abbot Suger at St. Denis. I was going into the Church but my brother         .         .         .”

“Yes, I know. He was killed by a pig.”

“It changed my life.”

“Think of that. But for a pig you would not be sitting here today.”

“It is God’s will.”

“I suppose one could say that of anything.”

The Abbot Suger and the Archbishop had risen simultaneously. The tte--tte with my future husband had gone on long enough for propriety. I felt rather annoyed that I should be told what I might and might not do. That situation should soon be rectified, but this was not the occasion to show my irritation. I wanted to create a good impression on Louis, so I dutifully rose and said
au revoir
to him and the rest of the company.

Then I went to Petronilla, to tell her about my first encounter with my bridegroom elect.

“He looks mild,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I peeped down when they arrived. I had a good view. He hardly looks like the man I should have expected you to marry. I thought at first that it was one of the others         .         .         .         and I quite envied you.”

“Which other?”

“There were men with him.”

“Do you mean the Abbot Suger?”

Petronilla was overcome with mirth.

“You know I didn’t mean him. Abbot Suger indeed! He looks such another as the grim old Archbishop. I mean the handsome one who was presented to you.”

“Do you mean Thibault of Champagne or Raoul of Vermandois?”

“The attractive one.”

“They were both attractive.”

“One was especially so.”

“What a lot you noticed!”

“One would be blind and insensitive not to notice that one.”

“Are you sure you did not mean Louis?”

“Indeed I did not.”

“I think I know. It was Raoul of Vermandois. I must say, he did seem rather attractive.”

“Rather! He was overwhelmingly so. I hope I shall have the opportunity of meeting him soon.”

“Petronilla, you are getting frivolous.”

“I follow the example of my sister always.”

“You must show more respect. Remember, I shall be not only the Duchess of Aquitaine but very soon, they say, the Queen of France.”

“I am looking forward to being there         .         .         .         particularly if this Raoul is going to be in attendance.”

“I can see I shall have to watch you. And how did you like my Louis?”

“He seemed rather mild         .         .         .         and very young.”

“And you had eyes only for the charming Raoul. I daresay he is something of a rake.”

“Oh, Eleanor, how can you know?”

“I have a sixth sense about these things. You are a very young girl, Petronilla, and I can see that you will have to be careful. And how can you talk frivolously about your preference for this man when your sister is soon to be cast up on the altar of marriage?”

“It won’t be an unwilling sacrifice. You must tell me
all
about it. I think Louis looks quite nice in a way. I think you will not have any difficulty in handling him.”

“He is attracted by me. I think he was afraid they were going to present him with some monster.”

“Well, he must have had a pleasant surprise, and you have not been disappointed. This is a happy day for us all.”

She was smiling smugly and I was sure she was thinking about Raoul of Vermandois. I could see that I should have to keep a wary eye on Petronilla. She was growing out of childhood and, like myself, she had been brought up in the Courts of Love.

We had to entertain our guests in a royal manner and I was determined to show the French that we in Aquitaine lived as graciously as they. But though I arranged banquets and tournaments, Louis took little part, though the Counts of Champagne and Vermandois distinguished themselves. I watched Petronilla. Her eyes were on Raoul of Vermandois. I thought: I really do believe she has fallen in love with him.

I had discovered certain facts about Raoul. He was married to the niece of the Count of Champagne. Of course, I told myself, Petronilla was young and frivolous. I remembered my own infatuation for my uncle Raymond. That had been intense while it lasted. I believed Petronilla would be more reckless than I, and I guessed that she had inherited our grandfather’s sensual nature. I had myself inherited that nature to a certain degree but I had always been imbued with the love of power, and I thought that would prevent my being carried away by my emotions.

Meanwhile I was interested in Louis. I had to be if I were to spend the rest of my life with him.

I was pleasantly pleased. Not that I was by any means in love with him. Perhaps I did not want to be. I wanted to be in command, and being in love might prevent that. I saw that I could make Louis my slave. He was inclined to be puritanical. Poor boy, fancy being in the care of Abbot Suger all those years! I could imagine what that had been like. He would have led the secluded life of a monk         .         .         .         prayers, austerity, discomfort         .         .         .         And suddenly to be snatched from that sequestered life and brought out into the activities of the Court         .         .         .         and not as an obscure member of it but as its future King. No wonder he looked bewildered half the time. If what I had heard of his father’s health was true, it would not be long before the crown rested on Louis’ head; and now he had to be a husband.

I was not sure which would be giving him the greater qualms.

But his shyness certainly endeared him to me and I was beginning to think that I liked him better the way he was than I should have if he had been a man of the world like Vermandois. I knew that gentleman’s type well. I had seen so many of them at my grandfather’s Court. They were exciting, true; but they were not to be trusted.

So, on the whole, I was grateful for Louis. I would look after him as I looked after Petronilla. I would mold him to my way of thinking. I would make of him the husband best suited to myself.

Our wedding day arrived. It had been decided that there was no point in delay.

It was a hot July Sunday and Bordeaux was
en fte.
Even the smallest houses had banners hanging from them, and the people had been crowding into the streets since dawn. All over town bells were ringing.

Louis and I rode through the streets amid the cheers of the people. They shouted for me. I was their Duchess. For Louis they had curious stares. He was the son of the King of France, but what was France to Aquitaine? Still, it was a good marriage. I was young and female and there should be strong men to protect Aquitaine now. They had to remember that France was the sovereign state and even prosperous Aquitaine was a vassal to its King.

So we stood before Archbishop Lauroux and made our vows. The golden diadems were placed on our heads. We were Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine and heirs to the throne of France.

As soon as the wedding banquet was over we left Bordeaux for our journey to Paris. At Taillebourg we were to spend the first night of our marriage.

As a girl I had listened to many songs of such occasions, and this was perhaps an advantage for I was more prepared than Louis. I saw at once that it was I who must take charge and teach him. He was extremely nervous, having some garbled idea of what was expected of him, but he was in no way certain how he must go about it. I had to guide him.

I was rather proud of the manner in which I was able to do this. The act of love came naturally to me. As I suspected, I was meant to enjoy it and I did. I knew at once that, even with my stumbling Louis, marriage suited me.

Louis was extremely grateful. I had been tender and tactful. I was a year younger than he, but I might have been several years older and compared with him I was worldly. I think I had been born sophisticated. From the age of two I had been precocious, and of course those first five years in my grandfather’s Courts had made a deep impression on me.

Louis changed overnight. He admired me. Not only was I beautiful beyond his imaginings, not only had I brought him rich Aquitaine, but I had made him see that marriage was not so fearful after all. There was even some enjoyment to be gleaned from it.

The marriage was a success.

We were in Poitiers for a few days, and there we were to be consecrated Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine at a very impressive ceremony.

It was pleasant to be in that castle which—much as I had loved the Ombrire Palace at Bordeaux—had always been my home. Dangerosa was there and it was wonderful to go into the Maubergeonne Tower and talk to her. She wanted to hear all about the wedding and I was able to talk to her frankly about my relationship with Louis.

She was amused. She said it was a pity that the fat King of France did not see fit to teach his son a little of the ways of the world instead of so much about those of Heaven. “Time enough for that when you get there,” she added.

She was still the same Dangerosa who had delighted me in my childhood and my grandfather in the last days of his life.

We were now going to entertain the company at Poitiers and she must help me.

“We have to show the French that we can do better than they can,” I told her.

“We shall. What do they think of us so far?”

“We shock them a little. Our dresses         .         .         .         our gaiety         .         .         .         our women. They think we should be a little more demure. And what they think of our songs, I cannot imagine. I believe they think we should be more subtle.”

“We will shock them even more. I will tell the minstrels to sing our most bawdy songs.”

“I don’t think my Louis would be amused by that.”

“What a pity your grandfather is not here to see this.”

“Louis is not like my grandfather.”

“Nobody on Earth ever was.”

“No. But I am rather pleased with my young Louis.”

“Then I rejoice with you. Let us plan how we shall entertain them. Does he love the chase?”

“I think he loves best meditation and prayer.”

“I hope he does not engage too much in those habits in the bedchamber.”

“I think he is just a little eager to be in bed with me.”

Dangerosa laughed. Then she looked wistful—thinking of my grandfather, I guessed.

While we were at Poitiers I arranged a hunting expedition for Louis and some of the men. An unfortunate incident occurred—or perhaps not so unfortunate, for it gave me a different view of Louis. One of the castellans of the duchy, a certain Lezay, who had often been in conflict with my father and was always stirring up some mischief, had refused to pay homage to Louis as Duke of Aquitaine, and when the party went out on the hunt, Lezay with a few followers waylaid them and set upon them. It may well have been that they planned to take Louis hostage. However, Louis, it seemed, had a side to his nature which I had not suspected. He had a violent temper and when it was aroused—which was rarely—he was quite unable to control it.